


The Name

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can make up for the loss; no one can replace you. You took away me, and I am left with nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Name

**Author's Note:**

> Careful, I started tearing up while writing this. Maybe I'm just pathetic about the 'Ur clan.

Raindrops splatter on the hard earth of the courtyard. For much distance nothing but flat burial stones can be seen, but when one approaches the northeastern side, if they squint, they can make out two lone figures.

One of them stands, silently trembling, head bowed, fingers white as they clutch a wet but precious object to his chest. The other is almost prostrate, having flung himself onto one of the stone tablets. Wretched, choking sobs along with strings of broken Khuzdûl burst from his throat as he knocks his head repeatedly on the coffin’s surface.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” the standing Dwarf whispers.

The other turns wild eyes to him and screams something unintelligible. Gasping and shuddering, he traces the name on the gravestone with his fingers. Over and over again he follows the form of the letters, and he remembers, in flashes and snippets: the death of the one who bore this name.

_A hot room, filled with the strong, pungent odor of vomit._

_Sheets wet with perspiration and coughed-up blood._

_Half-empty bottles of medicines standing on the dresser._

_Chestnut brown hair, streaked with gray, clinging to damp, burning skin._

_Slurred nonsense, fevered gibberish._

_Glazed amber brown eyes, fighting to stay open and failing._

_Words of farewell fading into silence._

The Dwarf screams once more, bangs his head again against the stone with a severe crack. His companion cringes at the sound, but says nothing.

Worn out, Bifur stares numbly at the letters. They are written in both Khuzdûl and the Common Tongue. Bifur does not know how to read, but he knows what the symbols are saying. The name.

He must try. He must try to speak it. He has said it before, before the Orc and his axe, the remnants of which are in his head. Since then he has been unable to form the syllables. But he must try, just this once.

“B...B-b...” Bifur falters. His tongue won’t cooperate, won’t form the word. He must! He can no longer label him with the Khuzdûl word for ‘cousin’. It’s not enough anymore. _He has to speak the name!_ “B...u’fur-r-r.” He swallows around the lump in his throat and whispers it again. “B’f-fur.”

Bombur’s gut wrenches as Bifur manages to gag out something to the likeness of ‘Bofur’. His vision blurs, and although he closes his eyes against them, the tears run in torrents down his face and fall onto the worn leather hat in his hands.

 

_I can’t describe to you how I feel; it’s like living in a nightmare, way too real. You were here and now you’re gone, how am I supposed to live on? All those days we spent together are now just memories. Why did you have to leave, can you answer me that please? I can’t believe what happened and that the destiny chose you. Please come back to me, I can’t deal with this anymore....I swear I can’t breathe, my eyes are burning and my heart is torn apart. I would do anything just to get you back, because you were and are still my friend..._

 

FIN


End file.
